Igor’s vision went red, his arm tightening around Maryruth, as if his body could shield her from Olaf’s intention to embarrass them. But this was no animal he could take to the ground and kill, though Olaf was feral and malicious. The dog had just been deranged. It hadn’t known any better. Olaf knew better. And he didn’t give a shit.
“Igor,” came Maryruth’s soft whisper. “You’re hurting me.”
His arm slackened. She didn’t move from his side. Igor didn’t chance a glance at her. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on Olaf, but Olaf was too busy shaking hands and laughing with his partygoers.
“Why would he do this?” Maryruth finally asked.
“To humiliate me,” Igor stated.
“I’m sorry.”
He turned to look at her. Her eyes were wide, and a sheen of tears covered them.
“I’ve shamed you.”
“No,” he stated. “That painting—it’s beautiful. It’s raw. It would be an honor to own such a piece.”
She inhaled a shaky breath. “Then why—”
“Because Olaf wanted to put me in my place. He wanted to embarrass me in front of his colleagues, take me by surprise. No man would want his wife on display like that.”
“I’m not your wife.” She shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”
“The family business is a strange one,” he began, attempting to explain. “The women are supposed to be—”
“Chaste and innocent while the men wave their infidelity and promiscuity in everyone’s faces?”
“Something like that.”
“Are you promiscuous?”
They were getting off topic into dangerous territory fraught with landmines. One wrong step and it would blow up in his face.
“I was,” Igor admitted slowly.
“But you’re not anymore?”
“Empty, it was all so empty. Do you believe me, Maryruth?”
He stared down at her, cupped her cheek in his hand. He didn’t care that people stared at them, waiting for them to have an explosive fight over the unveiled painting.
“I believe you,” she whispered, her breath teasing his lips. “How did he know about me? And how did he get Auggie to agree into giving him a painting?”
“I imagine a great deal of money changed hands. As for his knowing? Olaf has resources.”
“Igor!” Olaf’s voice thundered through the room. Voices hushed, eyes turned to the scene that was about to unfold. Olaf sauntered through the crowd to stand in front of his son. Pleasure danced in his eyes.
“Tell me, what do you think of Sonya’s gift?” Olaf taunted.
“She outdid herself,” Igor said coolly.
Olaf’s smile was as wide as a demonic jack-o-lantern. “Yes, she did.”
“You think so?” Maryruth interjected, her voice pitched low and husky, playing into the role of an artist’s muse. “That painting doesn’t even hold a candle to the one I gave Igor.”
Olaf’s face darkened. He would not be upstaged.
Igor’s arm tightened around her in a subtle warning, hoping to silence her. The last thing they needed was to arouse Olaf’s vindictive nature. It was aroused enough.
“Your lover, Agoston Boros, had quite a few things to say about you,” Olaf bit out. Murmured whisperers echoed in the quiet room; the showdown between the head of the Russian mob and his successor’s date was too juicy not to discuss, even in the heat of the moment.
Maryruth’s smile widened as she trailed a hand down the front of Igor’s tuxedo jacket. “It’s all true.”
“Thanks for a lovely evening,” Igor lied, shooting a glance at Sasha to do something—anything. “But it’s best that we get going.”
Olaf’s fists clenched at his sides at being thwarted. Sasha jumped in front of the retreating couple and distracted Olaf by asking when the debauchery was to begin.
Igor all but dragged Maryruth by the hand through the hotel lobby.
“Slow down,” she called out.
He didn’t and said nothing to her until they were safely ensconced in the sleek, black Jag he’d driven to Atlantic City. The bright lights in the dark night illuminated the pavement.
“You’re mad at me,” she guessed, buckling her seat belt.
Igor maneuvered through traffic like a professional racecar driver. Not taking his eyes off the road, he said, “No. But you don’t realize what you’ve done.”
“Pissed off your father? Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have had that third glass of champagne.” She sighed. “I had no idea he would be like that.”
“How would you have known?”
“You tried to warn me.”
“Da.”
“But I got caught up in his charm. He seemed so…”
“I know.”
She looked out the window. “I humiliated him, didn’t I? In front of all those people. By not playing his game. By not being embarrassed when he tried to knock us down a few pegs.”
“Da.” He smiled and glanced at her.
“Why are you smiling?” she demanded.
“You said ‘us’.’”
“We are an ‘us,’ aren’t we?”
“We are,” he agreed. He cleared his throat, hating that he had to broach this subject without being able to look at her. Unfortunately, the New Jersey traffic required all of his attention.
“We have a problem,” he continued.
“Yes, so you mentioned.”
“There’s only one way my father will leave you alone.”
“Leave the city and change my name?” Maryruth quipped.
Igor paused. “A name change. Yes.”
Her head whipped around, her eyes boring holes into the side of his chiseled jaw. “You can’t mean what I think you mean.”
“Yes, Maryruth. You have to marry me. Tonight.”